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For the Rushed and Hurried Days of Fall

It’s that back to school time of year when the slow and easy ways of summer flee to the endless demands of fall. I love fall. In the fairy tale places of my heart it is filled with the sipping of soups, watching leaves waltz across the sky, and lazy watching-football-days.

Today feels anything like the nostalgic autumn time Norman Rockwell captured. Instead, it is rushed and hurried. Alarm clocks. School supplies. Packing for college. New clothes with their tags thrown like confetti of anxiety.

The baby started his first day of his senior year of high school yesterday. The big brother is boxing up for another college year up north. I already feel behind. The days this week feel hard to savor; they are demanding, maybe even cruel. When did my children grow so old? How did I miss it? Why aren’t we better at this back-to-school stuff after so many years of practice?

I hear the whisper, “Slow down. Take a deep breath.” It sounds a lot like, “Martha, Martha, you are worried about much.” Yes. I am. Again, “Slow down.” Yes. I will.